


Go To War

by raythehellagay



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel, Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Alcoholism, Angst, Cocaine, Depression, Drugs, Fighting, Hurt/comfort without the comfort lmao, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Self Loathing, Unhappy Ending, awful coping mechanisms, human trash fire wade wilson, idk hes fucked up, idk unresolved personal differences ig, more specifically - Freeform, reckless behaviour, uuuuhhhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 15:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18263942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raythehellagay/pseuds/raythehellagay
Summary: He couldn't fucking believe this.He knew they had differences, that their lives had led them to have different moral codes, different rules in how they conducted themselves. He never thought it would cause this much of a rift between them though.





	Go To War

**Author's Note:**

> this happened cause of that song Go To War by Nothing More (hehehe rhyme) and is actually probably the more sad of the two ideas I had, because they both have to live with it. Might post the other idea if i ever get around to writing it. cheers.

He couldn't fucking believe this.

He knew they had differences, that their lives had led them to have different moral codes, different rules in how they conducted themselves. He never thought it would cause this much of a rift between them though. They'd always managed to make it work, to allow some room for compromise, for meeting in the middle, throughout their relationship -- until now. For some reason it seemed that the jump from close friends with something vaguely sexual/romantic between them to actually honest to god dating had been the straw to break the camels back. Suddenly compromise like they'd had in the past was impossible on both ends, suddenly the middle between their two ideologies was the middle of a fucking chasm and neither of them could figure out how to bridge across, nor did they really seem to want to.

He didn't know what about the switch from a publicly platonic relationship to a publicly romantic one changed so goddam much about how they related, how they worked out their differences, but suddenly they weren't anymore. They were unable to meet in the middle about anything at this point, let alone about big issues like whether murder is ever justifiable or even what constitutes a worthwhile, fair punishment for someone labeled a criminal.

The screaming matches where what really fucked him up though, the fights that ended with both of them hoarse and in tears. Neither of them were really good with confrontation, Wade with his past trauma and Peter with his, but it didn't stop them from shouting loud enough to get complaints from their neighbours. They could go for hours, spitting the most acrid insults back and forth, unable to stop the hatred from pouring into their voices as they got in each others faces, nearly coming to blows almost every time.

They never did.

If they had Wade would've disappeared, would've fallen back into the kind of downward spiral he was in after Vanessa, begging everything in the universe to just let him die. If he ever hit Peter like that, ever did something even remotely similar to what his father did to him as a child, he wouldn't ever be able to forgive himself. Never.

Thankfully it hadn't gotten that far.

Yet.

He wasn't sure if one day he was gonna snap and a part of himself he kept buried 6 feet deep would resurface, a part of him he'd worked so goddam hard to kill, and prove that he was nothing but a monster, inside and out. He was terrified it would happen, always storming out of their fights, always leaving before he could let that happen. As much as they screamed and cried and insulted, he couldn't let that happen.

It didn't mean he wasn't angry though.

Peter didn't seem to get it. To get that you only think that everyone deserves a chance, deserves to live, if you hadn't already seen the darkest pits of humanity. The fact that he could say that abusers and rapists deserved to live, even if he thought it was somehow worse to let them live with it, was like a slap in the face.

He knew, he fucking _knew_ , what Wade's childhood had been like. He'd confessed to the worst of his self loathing, of his shitty coping skills, all because of what that bastard fucker who called himself a goddam 'father' did to him, how he felt like a piece of trash sometimes still, something used and dirty, and still Peter was able to look him in the face and say that that kind of person didn't deserve to be skinned alive, to have their knees broken and then their ankles and then their elbows and so on and so forth until they didn't have any whole joints left. That they didn't deserve the absolute worst of the worst humanity could do to another human.

That stung the worst.

Every time they argued about that Wade left in the worst possible way, aching both to bleed and to make others bleed. He'd fallen back into some of his shittier habits, starting fights, getting black out drunk and letting himself pass out in an alley or a bathroom stall, he even picked up smoking again just to feel the burn in his chest. At this point that was one of the only things he still felt, and if it weren't for that he wasn't sure he'd still be upright and trying.

They hadn't had a normal conversation that didn't somehow turn into an argument of some sort in months, and he wasn't sure when 'fighting with' stopped meaning 'fighting for'. He fell asleep, so drunk he was struggling to put words together, mumbling about 'home not being safe anymore' and 'clearly were better off alone'. He didn't feel safe at home anymore. Was always hyper-aware of doorways, jumped more easily, was faster to snap and bitch.

Eventually he moved out, leaving everything except a few changes of clothes and enough money to get along on his own, unable to look at most of the things he had without thinking of Peter, of wanting to cry and scream and beat his head against a wall. He went back to the shittiest apartment in the sketchiest part of town, sometimes just ditching to live in an alley for a few weeks, tired of the constant ache in his chest. Got back on coke, nearly in tears at the relief of just not feeling for a while.

While getting fucked up on alcohol was fun, it didn't exactly ease the ache.

Eventually he just left new york all together, found a new city to take up residence in (when he wasn't out on jobs, happy to pick up where he left off when peter convinced him to start working in kinder corners of the world), new people to bother and annoy.

That was it though.

No one to joke with, to share meals with, to enjoy the company of. He was back to being a nuisance, back to being a pest, and it was fucking shit, but it was comfortable and familiar. He knew how to handle this, and on the days when he felt like he couldn't stand it anymore, he let himself go off and blow his brains out in some uninhabited alley. No one to get angry and upset with him about it now, might as well do what works best.

He did his best.

He wasn't doing much more than surviving, but it's all he could manage; and for someone who literally couldn't die, sometimes that's all you can ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> yay angst   
> please i cannot stress enough please let me know if i missed any tags!!


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